


Damian Wayne and the Ridiculously Expensive Wand

by Cy_kun



Series: Son of Batman [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Streets of Gotham
Genre: As you can probably tell by Jason not showing up in the character tags, But so is everyone else apparently, Cosplay date, Crack, Gen, I mean they're eleven, M/M, The JayTim is only hinted at, They're first years, fluff?, irresponsible use of movie props, tim is a nerd, tiny boyfriends, uh, who can fit in tiny costumes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cy_kun/pseuds/Cy_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There weren't many things that could surprise Tim Drake these days. Damian skulking around the manor? Definitely not one of them.<br/>Damian skulking around the manor while wearing a black robe and pointing a stick at the curtains?<br/>Maybe.</p><p>Or, the one where Damian Wayne is, thankfully, not the savior of the Wizarding World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damian Wayne and the Ridiculously Expensive Wand

There weren't many things that could surprise Tim Drake these days. Damian skulking around the manor? Definitely not one of them.

Damian skulking around the manor while wearing a black robe and pointing a stick at the curtains?

Maybe.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked. He didn't know why he asked. He didn't really _care_... Well, okay, that wasn't true. Tim was curious by nature. He _liked_ knowing things. He just liked keeping Damian's attention away from him as often as possible more. It made it a lot easier to pretend the demon brat didn't actually exist. Which was one of Tim's main goals in the game of life.

And then Damian spun around, staring at Tim with a look of rage and _absolute terror_ and suddenly Tim’s brand new, top-of-the-list goal was to ask, “Are you wearing _glasses_?”

Damian stiffened, and Tim was about to _die laughing_ at the look on his face, but almost as soon as he noticed it Damian's face twisted into his customary scowl.

“You're not supposed to be here!” Damian growled, glaring at Tim through a pair of ugly, round glasses.

Tim raised a very unimpressed eyebrow. “I still live here, you know.”

“That's not what I mean! You don't show up yet.”

Tim blinked. “Show up for what?”

Damian shook his head. “-tt- Of _course_ Drake would ruin everything," he muttered to himself. "Fine, he can have two roles then.” He glared one last time, but just when Tim was about to walk away and _wash his hands_ of this, a very curious thing happened.

Damian cowered right there in front of him, before drawing himself up and raising the stick with a shaking hand.

“I won't let you take the Stone to You-Know-Who!” he yelled.

Damian's voice echoed through the empty hallway, caressing Tim like a blanket. A blanket that was most definitely absent. Kind of like most of Tim's higher brain functions.

 _What the hell is going on?_ was the only thought in Tim's head. Although, that was very quickly followed by _Wait,_ “is that a lightning bolt on your head?”

And it was, he noticed a second later when Damian stepped forward and under a dim light. A lightning bolt drawn in marker over his right eye.

“Oh my god,” Tim said slowly. He took in the lightning bolt, glasses and the stick— _wand—_ and swallowed a disbelieving laugh. “Are you _Harry Potter_? Oh my god, Damian, are you playing Harry Potter right now?”

Tim looked around for someone, _anyone,_ even though he knew the hall was empty. It just didn't seem right that no one else was around to share the _best day ever_ with him.

“Back away Death Eater!”

Tim burst out laughing.

Damian flushed, then thrust the wand out towards Tim and hissed, “ _Crucio_!”

“Oh my god!” Tim gasped. “Oh my god! You-you...you haven't even been Harry for two minutes and you're already casting Unforgiveables!” He took huge, rasping breaths, trying as hard as he could to get his laughter under control. “This is the best day of my _life_.”

Tim prayed to every god that ever existed that Bruce had the cameras in this hallway recording. He would clean the cave—by hand—for a _year_ if Bruce let him have the tapes.

To Damian's credit, he didn't break character at all, he just stared at his wand in confusion and, _oh my god_ , started _shaking it_.

 _How can this be getting better? How can the best thing ever actually be getting_ better _?_

“ _Confundus_!” Damian yelled. Then, so low Tim almost missed it, muttered, “not that anyone would be able to tell the difference anyway.”

“Hey now,” Tim said, getting himself under control. “That's mean. The Boy-Who-Lived is supposed to be nice and sweet. As much as your characterization sucks though, you did pretty good on your cosplay. Is that a replica wand?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Tim was _sure_ he was going to break character and throw a hissy fit. Instead of the excepted Arabic swearing and wild attempts at nerve strikes though, Damian relaxed as a small smirk pulled at his lips. “As if I would ever use a _replica_.”

Three things happened, then.

The first was that Colin came tearing down the hall dressed in a very similar robe and waving a not-so-similar wand.

The second was that Damian took another step closer to Tim.

The third was Tim suddenly noticing how familiar Damian's props were.

“Is that _my_ wand?” he asked slowly.

Damian's smirk widened. “No. It's _mine_.”

Memories flashed through Tim's mind. Memories of hours spent in front of the computer, obsessively refreshing the same page over and over again as he waited for the seconds on the charity auction to tick down to zero. Memories of the thrill that traveled up his spine as he shot out of his chair and _screamed_ in victory as he won wand after wand, robe after robe, along with glasses and books and costumes, at the cost of at _least_ tens of thousands of dollars each. Memories of reverently opening the packages that contained them, and holding _authentic Harry Potter movie props_ in his hands for the very first time. Memories of hiding them away in the safe in the back of his closet after the first time Damian had destroyed one of the many bits of—thankfully non authentic—memorabilia scattered throughout his room.

“You stole my movie props...” Tim whispered, as if saying it so low would somehow keep it from being true.

“Harry!” Colin yelled in a terrible British accent, coming to a stop next to Damian. “Did you find the Stone?” Then, much lower and in his usual voice, “Why's Timmy playing now? He's not supposed to show up until the forth movie.”

“It's okay Ron,” Damian said, not even trying for an accent other than his own. “This Death Eater was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But I stopped him.”

Colin tilted his head as if he was deciding whether or not to ask any more questions. Then he shrugged, and stared at Damian in over-exaggerated awe. “ _Wow_! You stopped a _Death Eater_!” He paused, then in his real voice added, “I know we said we were gonna do Drarry later but we don't have the wig yet and I kinda wanna kiss you now so can Harry maybe have _lots_ of boyfriends?”

“Of course,” Damian said. “As long as they are all you.”

Colin grinned. “Awesome! Oh! Uh, I mean—” The terrible accent returned. “—cor blimey that's _brilliant_!”

He pecked Damian on the lips, then cupped his cheeks and gave him another, longer kiss, somehow managing not to poke Damian in the eye with his wand.

Another _very familiar_ wand.

“ _You both stole my movie props_!” Tim shrieked.

The boys sprung apart, and Tim started to lunge at Damian only to freeze in place when the brat held up Tim's _two hundred thousand dollar_ Harry Potter wand and _started to bend it_.

“You wouldn't...”

Damian grinned. “The wand of the Chosen One is very powerful. I'd rather destroy it than see it fall into Voldemort's hands.”

“You're not supposed to say his name yet!” Colin hissed.

Tim started hyperventilating.

_This is the worst day ever!_

And yet, as much as he wanted to _beat Damian's ass_ more than he'd ever wanted to beat up any little kid in his _entire life_ , he couldn't. One step closer and he knew his third favorite possession—right behind the Redbird and his key to Jason's apartment—would be snapped in two right in front of his eyes. So instead of breaking every third bone in Damian's body, he did the only thing that was left to do.

“ _Bruce!_ ” he screamed. “ _Damian stole my Harry Potter wand!_ ”

“Father isn't—I mean, no one is here but us, Death Eater. And you—”

Tim wasn't listening. He was already halfway down the hall, sprinting towards Bruce's office.

 _I can't believe that little_ bastard _stole my wand! I almost lost it_ three times _to some idiot in California and I am_ not _gonna lose it to Bruce's demon spawn!_

He burst into Bruce's office. Bruce's head shot up from where he'd been typing away at his computer.

“Bruce! Damian took my Harry Potter stuff and gave it to Colin and they're _playing_ with like a million dollars worth of movie memorabilia and he _almost snapped my wand in half!_ ”

He gasped, then gulped down air, very much regretting not even trying to catch his breath after running through half the manor at full speed.

Bruce just stared at him, and that was when Tim noticed that, instead of his usual suit or sweater and chinos, Bruce was wearing a very thick, dark robe.

Which, also, looked very familiar.

“Bruce....is that....”

Bruce studied Tim for another moment, then reached to his left and picked up a single sheet of paper. Tim saw the words “Cast List” written at the top in Damian's frustratingly elegant handwriting. Bruce scanned the list, then raised his eyebrow.

“Aren't you playing Peter Pettigrew? Are we doing the fourth one already?” Bruce asked, frowning.

Tim's first thought was _they made me_ Wormtail _!?_

Which was thankfully followed very quickly by the much more productive, “Bruce, what the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, right. I'm supposed to stay in character.”

Bruce sighed, looking for all the world like he regretted agreeing to something, before picking up a very sinister looking yew wand from his desk and pointing it at Tim.

“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” he said solemnly.

Tim blinked. Then, very slowly, he turned and walked out of the office.

This was obviously a nightmare. And Tim could handle that. All he needed to do was go back to Jason's apartment and bury himself under pillows and blankets until his horrible, _horrible_ subconscious decided to take pity on him and let him wake up. Easy.

And if this _wasn't_ a nightmare? Well. Jason always left at least one gun laying around somewhere.

And Tim was pretty sure he could pull a trigger faster than Damian could snap a wand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The guy in California that Tim was bidding against was Elon Musk. Just because.
> 
> Also, check the comments for more casting decisions :)


End file.
